


Different Walks

by JumanjiiCostco



Series: Different Walks [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: i can't believe this is the first time i'll ever post on ao3, introspective caleb is best caleb, wow here we go guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 07:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16403945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JumanjiiCostco/pseuds/JumanjiiCostco
Summary: They accidentally stole a ship. Now there's a lot of time to think about how they got there...





	Different Walks

They’re not heroes. They were never going to be heroes. And that’s apparent as they drift, frazzled still and collecting themselves, away from Nicodranas on a stolen ship with a hostage all but hog-tied to the mast. They are an off-brand kind of self-declared justice that started somewhere between mail fraud and the notion that Jester’s mother deserved to be left unbothered by her less than suitable suitors. 

No, they were never going to be heroes. There was too much blood on their hands, too much weight on their shoulders when they met. And when you think about it–which is a large portion of what Caleb does, you know,  _think_ –they might should have seen this coming. Not this exact moment, of course, not even the dodecahedron could have given them that, but this kind of chaos. 

Jester’s laugh lilts high and loud from the other side of the ship as Sprinkles clambers up her neck and onto her horns, and for all of a moment, Caleb’s hideous, twisted thoughts subside. He glances at her, at the unadulterated joy on her face, bruised as it might be, and sees the evidence of her mother’s love that he could not find before. 

But the thunderclouds of his own self-condemnation return as quickly as they left, and he is left to scan the rest of the group with the distinct and heavy knowledge that even if he wanted to, he’ll never quite know them as well as they know each other. Because he can’t. Because maybe if he was a better person, more deserving of any kind of  _goodness_ of  _kindness_  then maybe–but he isn’t. He is irredeemable. A monster by his own right, and there’s no coming back from that. 

Not even from the careful attention of a water-fearing, braver than she thinks goblin. A goblin who is currently huddled in the dead middle of the ship, claiming to be on guard, but mostly just trying to feel safe as the gentle waves shift the boat from side to side. There isn’t even redemption in the firm, but no less compassionate words of a begrudging monk. A monk who stands, now, at the bow of the ship, staring off towards the horizon with her hands clenched so fiercely into fists around the wood that Caleb takes a moment to wonder what she’s thinking. Or in the calm silence of Yasha, stoic as she sits cross-legged a few feet away from Caleb. There’s an odd sort of peace on her face, and he’s reminded that she needed to get on a ship, anyway, and maybe her god–her  _stormlord_ –put this all together for her. But no, there is no redemption in her, either, even if they are… tentatively, friends. 

There is a wide expanse of people aboard this ship, all walks of life, all different motivations and desires. There are memories abound and endless possibilities stretching out in every direction except backwards–the irony of which does not miss him, I assure you. There are enemies at their backs and friends at their sides and a bewildering sort of calm over the one man who has any idea how to steer this thing. 

(A man, Caleb notes, who seems to be paying little attention to where they’re actually going, just yet. A man who relishes in the return to a place he loves. It’s almost enough for him to be glad of it all, the whole fiasco. Almost.) 

There are so many things on this ship, in this night, in his mind. But there is no redemption. Perhaps there never will be. 


End file.
